


The Heart

by Fishyz9



Series: Body Parts [6]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: #angst, #mention of non-con, M/M, Schmico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 05:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: A recent run-in brings to the surface an old wound, causing Nico to retreat in every sense. Levi, the little coffee bean-sized hero everyone needs in their life, won't let him.





	The Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Please be advised before reading: Mention on non-consent/rape.

His eyes kill me. He goes on about mine, how they’re beautiful, doe-like, or whatever. Which, ok, I love that and it kinda makes me _feel_ like I might be beautiful, at least to him, but at the same time it makes me want to laugh because… _hello_. Mister smoulder.

He’s not a chatty guy, at least not with most, with me I can’t shut him up half the time and honestly it makes me feel kind of privileged, but anyway, he has this quiet dignity about him despite being a total bro with the constant “dudes” when around a certain head of Orthopaedics. He speaks when spoken to, is polite, witty and soft spoken, all of which gives him an air of professionalism and poise. I get the laughter, the sweet smiles, dumb jokes, self-deprecation and intimate secrets. Just me, no one else. And when the conversation stops that’s when he gives you his full attention. He looks at you and listens to every word you say. He makes you _feel_ listened to. Both effective with patients and downright swoon-worthy in any other context.

Those eyes take my breath away. Those eyes are endless patience and warmth. And right now those eyes won’t look at me.

I don’t know where he went. Four days ago he grew quiet and stopped looking at me. And he won’t look at me because he knows I can read him. One look and I can usually tell what’s bubbling just under the surface, that is how in tune I have become to him. But for some reason, he’s chosen to close that private channel between us, and he won’t even acknowledge to me that he has.

Perhaps if I wasn’t so afraid (all the time) of losing this thing I have with him, this relationship that feels like family but more intimate somehow, then maybe I’d have been brave enough to call him out on it as soon as it started. But I’m not that brave. Loving Nico is comforting and the most wonderful feeling I think I’ll ever experience in my life, so with that comes an instant and constant fear of losing him. It’s exhausting.

And now he won’t look at me, I can’t read him and I‘m worried about what that means. More than that, more than my own insecurities, it’s his welfare that gives me cause for concern. I can sense just a ripple of whatever is going on inside of his head, and it’s nothing good. He’s not ok and I don’t know why. I want to comfort him and he won’t let me and again, I don’t know why.

Love is going to give me a goddamn stomach ulcer.

He’s in the kitchen taking a ridiculous amount of time to clean the dishes. He has the TV louder just lately, and when the TV isn’t on he puts the radio on, _loud_. As if he can drown out the pregnant silence where usually there’d be either comfortable silence or easy conversation. I’m pretending, for his sake, to be reading through one of my text books, but really I’m studying him. I’m analysing the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches when he’s clearly lost in thought. And for four days I’ve given him this space and allowed him his diversion tactics, but he hasn’t come back to me yet and it’s time to do something.

“I think the dishes are clean.”

He doesn’t answer, just takes an extra-long time to dry his hands, his back still to me. I close my text book.

“Enough. What’s going on?”

His movements slow to a complete still for a moment, his frame uncharacteristically slumped, and then he’s hanging the dish towel over the handle of the oven door. “Hmm?”

“Turn around, please?”

He turns, letting out a sigh and leaning back against the counter. He looks at me, but he’s not really there.

“You’ve switched off.” I tap my hand against the kitchen table nervously. “And I keep going back and forth between feeling insecure, wondering if I should feel worried for myself and my place in your life, or if I should be worried for you.” I squint at him and I see his throat bob. “I feel like you’re hurting but I can’t get close enough to know for sure. Does…does that make sense?”

He gives a forced smile, as if humouring me. “No? Not really.”

“I’m not imagining this.”

He shakes his head. “Levi, come on…”

“What’s going on?”

“Alright,” he pushes away from the counter. “It’s late–”

“No, it’s not.”

“And I’m tired,” he continues, ignoring me. “I’m going to bed, feel free to stay up studying or join me –”

“So we can not have sex?”

He freezes, and I’m suddenly alert and worried that _this_ is what gets to him.

“I’m not in the mood and suddenly it’s a big cause of concern?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“I’m not a performing stud.”

“No, you’re the person I love and adore more than anyone, and you’re…” I narrow my eyes at him. “I feel like you’ve been wounded?” I say with a helpless shake of the head, my shoulders lifting slightly, at a loss. “But I can’t tell for sure because I can’t get close, you won’t let me.”

He snorts. “Ok, you’re being weird and dramatic. I’m going to bed.” He walks towards the bedroom.

I stand. “Talk to me, please.”

“Christ, Levi. I’m too tired for head games.”

“Good, me too. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!” He snaps, then calms himself by closing his eyes and pressing his lips together in a tight line. He sighs. “I’m just… _tired_.”

I swallow hard, afraid of pushing too hard but I feel like I need to. “You’re lying.”

“Oh my– you know what, Levi?” He gestures to the door. “Just go home.”

I’m left startled for a moment. “My home is with you.”

“No, Levi. Your home is your mother’s _basement_.”

That one hits me in the chest and I have to glance away for a second, down to where my fingers toy with the curled edge of my text book. I don’t look up, even when he apologies, his voice soft.

“Hey, I’m–I’m sorry…” he says, regret clear in his voice. “I didn’t mean that.”

“My home is with you.” I repeat, quieter this time. 

He comes to stand in front of me, his hand covering mine and finally I lift my gaze.

“It is, and I’m sorry. Let’s...let’s please just go to bed.”

Up close, the strain is obvious. It’d be easy to give in and pretend as if everything was fine, to avoid the argument, the raised voices and ill spoken words, but I can’t do that. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Oh my–” He closes his eyes in sheer frustration and steps away instantly. “I can’t with you tonight. I just can’t.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair and then lets it flop down by his side. “Nothing is wrong, alright? Sometimes people can just be jerks because they’re tired. It’s perfectly normal and doesn’t require an intervention.”

“Yell at me all you want, I’m not letting you hide from me.”

“Have you always been this infuriating or is it a new development? Because I gotta say, not loving it, Levi.”

I swallow hard, pressing on. “You’re aching and you’re tired because you’re using all your energy to hide it.” I shake my head. “That might work with anyone else but not me. I feel when you’re unhappy, get it? I know I’m not crazy and that something is seriously wrong.” I take a few careful steps forward and look him in the eye, now that he’s close enough. “What’s hurting you, hmm?” I say softly, my hands holding onto his wrists, anchoring him there. “Tell me what’s going on. _Tell_ me.”

He flinches, just ever so slightly and I see it, I see it lurking there in those dark eyes, making its way up to the surface. It’s something awful and it makes my stomach twist in a sickening feeling. This is no small thing.

“ _God_ ,” he hisses, turning his head away. But my hands tighten their hold.

“No.” I say firmly, not allowing him to back away now that I’ve lured him out of this hidey hole. “I’m not letting –”

He yanks his hands out of my grip and steps away. I blink at the sudden movement, taken aback by his anger.

“ _Enough_.” He growls. “You might enjoy needless drama, but I’m too old for this crap. You can have the sofa or you can use the front door. I don’t give a damn because I’m going to bed, _alone_.”

With that he strides into the bedroom, slamming the door so loud it makes me jump. The room is suddenly deathly silent and I’m mortified to feel the stinging of tears in my eyes. It dawns on me that perhaps I’ve got this wrong, or if not, then perhaps I don’t hold as much power in this relationship as I thought I did. I feel like I’ve failed somehow. Regardless, my throat suddenly feels thick and I feel ridiculous for it.

I want to leave, pride wants me to pick up my jacket and keys and leave. But I can’t leave him alone, not after that small glimpse into whatever the hell is going on with him. I swallow hard and wipe the heel of my hand against my cheek, clearing my throat.

It hurts to know he doesn’t want to share his bed with me. It feels pathetic and embarrassing to know I’ve been relegated to the sofa, like some unwanted guest.  And it sucks to realise that all the spare bedding is in the cupboard in the bedroom, which I’ve been barred from entering.

I sit on the sofa, chewing on the inside of my cheek and reaching for a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table to stem the few insistent tears which escape despite my best effort. I reach for the lamp and turn it off, and lay down on the sofa. At least there are cushions.

Before attempting to fall asleep I reach for my phone in my pocket and send him a text.

_Goodnight x_

He the tick turns blue, telling me he’s read it, but he doesn’t reply.

Later that night when I come too the first thing I realise is that I’m cold. Second, is that Nico is crouched in front of me, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Levi?”

I rub at my eye. “What time is it?” I croak.

“A little after three.”  His hand strokes along my forearm. “You’re cold.”

I don’t know what to say so I shrug. I’m cold because I’m stuck out here on the sofa without a blanket, where he put me. His hand turns mine, uncurls it and pulls free the scrunched up tissue. He sighs.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Again, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. “It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not. Come to bed?”

“I…” I wet my lips. “You told me to sleep out here.” I hate how small my voice sounds.

He lets out a harsh breath and drops his chin, unable to look at me. “That’s because I’m a total _ass_.”

I give him a forced smile which I hope makes him feel better, but judging by the look on his face I think it only makes him feel worse. He goes down onto one knee and wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me forward slightly and hugging me close with his chin resting on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry; I should never have spoken to you like that.”

I hug him back loosely, letting my head rest against his. “That’s ok, I was being annoying.”

“You were being caring.”

“And annoying.”

I feel him squeeze a little tighter in response. “You’re the best person I know, you know that? I don’t just love you; I really, really like you too.”

I rest my hand at the nape his neck and return the hug with a little more feeling. “I love-like you too.” I say, smiling sadly. I press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls back slightly and then stands, tugging me up by the hands. He turns to head back to the bedroom, pulling me gently behind him but I don’t budge. I just look at him.

His shoulders fall. “You’re going to make me talk about it, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as the love of your life very well if I let this go by unchecked, now would I?” The attempt at humour doesn’t land, and I see him look away, pained. His throat bobs.

“Not out here.” He finally says, resigned, and with that I let him pull me towards the bedroom.

I glance back at him carefully as I silently undress out of my now crumpled clothes. The bedroom is quiet and he looks utterly defeated. He looks _stressed_. He settles on the edge of the bed, facing away from me with his hands braced against the edge of the mattress. When I kneel on the opposite side of the mattress he speaks up and I pause.

“Uh…would it…would it be ok if you just stayed there for now?” 

It breaks my heart how uncharacteristically shaky he sounds, so I agree immediately. “Of course.”

“I know that’s weird, I just…if I have to talk about it then I can’t look at you.”

Alarmed, I mirror his seated position so as to give him as much space as he needs. We sit with our backs facing each other, perched on both sides of the mattress and with the expanse of rumpled sheets and pillows between us. “Anything you need,” I say. “I won’t turn around until it’s ok.”

He lets out a deep breath, but otherwise doesn’t answer. I turn my head to the side when his side of the room goes dark, realising that he’s turned the bedside lamp near him off without a word. The fact that he feels he needs space, privacy and darkness to even talk about whatever’s bothering him is beyond terrifying to me. Silently I reach to do the same, and turn off the lamp on what’s become my side of the bed. I glance back at his silhouette and he turns his head to the side in a silent thank you.

“I actually thought I’d never have to do this, that I could go my whole life without saying any of it out loud.” He lets out harsh breath. “I’m so stupid,” he mutters.

“You are the very opposite, actually.” I say gently.

I can almost feel the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You always champion other people, did you know that? I’ve always thought that was so cool.”

The unexpected compliment touches me and I smile sadly to myself, hunching my shoulders slightly and gripping the edge of the mattress a little firmer.  “You’re my guy; it’s my job to make you aware of how awesome you are.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “I’m your guy?”

“…Absolutely.”

“And your first love.”

 _And last_ , I think, but I stop short of saying it out loud. “Yes.”

“I…” he pauses, takes a breath and starts again. “I ran into my first love earlier this week.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. There’s suddenly too much for me to think about, too much to compute in such little time. I feel both surprised and alarmingly threatened. “That’s what this is about?”

He hums in agreement. When I take too long to follow up with anything else, too busy wondering what this could mean, he speaks up.

“Stop, Levi.”

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. This isn’t…it’s not something to be jealous over. I’ve no conflicted feelings, you haven’t been _usurped_.” He says gently. “Stop thinking.”

“Sorry.” I whisper. Flushing and feeling selfish. “I’m Sorry. You carry on. Was… was it a bad breakup, or…?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Oh god.” He whispers, and I’m so used to a confident, easy-going Nico that I can’t really picture him right now.

 “This…this doesn’t have to be a thing, alright? In fact it’s not. It’s _not_ a thing.”

“…Ok?” It’s not a thing but he needs the lights out and for me to not look at him to talk about it.

“So, he was, I mean…we were…uh…”

“Each other’s first loves?” I try to help.

“Yes,” he answers, sounding grateful for gentle push in the right direction. “From high school. Senior year.”

“Oh, ok…”

“You sound surprised?”

“No I…um, I mean I guess it must have been something significant if it’s stayed with you from high school. I was expected college, med school…”

“ _Significant_.” He practically spits the word. “You could say that.”

“So it did, then. It ended badly?”

He lets out a humourless laugh, and when I dare glance around I’m shocked and alarmed to see him hunched over with his head in his hands, his fingers carding through his hair. “Nico…?” I whisper uncertainly, one hand tentatively stretching across the mattress towards him.

“ _Don’t_.” He says sharply, his head turned to the side just ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, but if you want me to do this then just…”

“Ok,” I’m quick to reassure him. “I understand, it’s ok.”

“It’s not a thing, it’s _not_.” He says more to himself than me, I think.

“It’s not,” I reassure him. “Keep going.”

“So…neither of us was out. I mean I wanted to be, he didn’t– _couldn’t_. He just couldn’t bring himself to be out; I kept telling myself he’d come around, but…”

I frown at that. I mean I can appreciate how that might be a little heart-breaking, but it doesn’t quite fit with what’s going on right now, with how affected Nico is. “So, is this shame spiral guy?”

“That’s not it, Levi. I wish that’s all it was.”

“Then…?”

“I wanted to be out, he didn’t. We were both…” he stumbles slightly, having to pause and start again. “We were both virgins, experiencing everything together for the first time. It was kind of intense, like a secret, forbidden love. So dumb…”

I don’t say anything; I simply stay quiet, waiting for him to get to wherever this is going. Whatever it is, it’s making more anxious by the second, a knot forming in my stomach.

“Anyway, there was always this push and pull. We both wanted to have sex, but I’d always hold back. I guess I thought it was leverage or something. A way to try and make him _want_ to come out?”

My mouth begins to water in the way it does right before you need to vomit. It’s slowly dawning on me what he’s trying to get to, and I can feel my breathing become a little ragged, tears springing into the corners of my eyes. But I stay quiet, hoping that I’m wrong, deathly aware that I cannot interrupt him at this moment.

“I didn’t know him as well as I thought. And it definitely wasn’t love, because...because…” he takes a shuddering breath and I close my eyes tight. “Because you can’t do what he did to me to someone you claim to love.”

“ _God_.” I gasp out; letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“I’m nearly done.” His voice is strained, as if desperately holding himself in check. “He invited me over one night when his folks were out. He said that he’d…he’d only put something in my drink so I’d relax. But…let’s just say I was conscious enough to be aware of what was going on, not conscious enough to push him away or say no. And he really…I mean we had no idea what to do so he… _hurt_ me.”

I feel a hot tear trail down my cheek and I furiously brush it away. “Dammit,” I mutter to myself, my fingers clenching and unclenching against the edge of the mattress. “Goddammit.” I start to turn. “Can I…?” I begin, desperate to cross the space between us.

He holds his hand up behind him, palm outward in answer. _No_.

“The messed up thing was that he blamed me. Because I’d been clear in the past that I’d wanted to, which was true, so it couldn’t have been…you know.”

“ _Nico_...” I choke out.

“Eventually I just…shut down. I was fatigued by the mental gymnastics of it all and I…I caved in. I believed him.”

“God.” I growl, my hands bunching into fists and punching into the mattress either side of my thighs.

“It took _a lot_ for me to put it behind me, Levi. You don’t even know. I stopped talking. Stopped eating. And eventually my parents got so freaked out that they threatened to send me to a shrink if I didn’t open up.”

I look back at him and see him shake his head, His shoulders so slumped in defeat that it makes me want to yell in anger.

“There wasn’t a chance in hell I was sharing that with a stranger, so I forced myself to at least resemble normal. In fact I went one further, I joined every extracurricular activity, then a gym, I practically threw myself into my studies and became an A+ student so that no one could possibly think there was anything wrong with me. And it worked. It’s worked ever since.”

“Until now?”

“I was fine. I was absolutely fine. It was literally half my lifetime ago and I hadn’t even thought about it in months. And then I was getting coffee on the way into work for us, you know, at our place?”

We have a favourite coffee shop, quiet, local, good brew. I know we’ll never go there again now.

“I was queuing and suddenly he was just there, the jackass actually pushed in line. I was telling him that the que started at the back and he turned, and…” he sighs. “He recognised me, I know he did. I could see it in his eyes, but he pretended to not know me.” He lets out a harsh breath. “The worst thing is…”

“What?” I whisper.

“I’d promised myself, _years_ ago, that if I ever ran into him that I’d…I’d say the word out loud. I’d give him that label. I’d let him see what a success I’d made of myself despite him, and I’d make him feel the shame he’d made me feel as a seventeen year old.”

“…What happened?”

When he answers his voice is completely flat. “I completely froze. I froze, turned and left. And I just…I _hate_ myself–” his voice breaks and that’s it, that’s all I can take.

With a pained grunt I turn and quickly crawl across the space between us, practically throwing my chest against his back, my knees sliding either side of his hips and my arms closing around him in an impossibly tight hold. “It’s ok,” I whisper to him, my hand cupping the side of his neck as I lean partially over his shoulder, pressing kisses against his temple. My lips stay there as I murmur quietly to him. “I’ve got you, you’re ok.”

I’d told him earlier that night that I was worried he was wounded. I was right. What I hadn’t anticipated was that this wound was one to the heart, and if you were to cut that wound open there would be rings upon stinging rings like an aging tree. Deep, and engraved with age.

His hand reaches up and holds onto my forearm like a lifeline. “I’ve been preoccupied with hating myself ever since. Viscerally _hating_ myself, Levi. That’s why I can’t look at you. I am just so desperately disappointed with myself.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” I don’t want to cry, I can’t, so I squeeze my eyes closed tight.

“I don’t want it to be a thing.”

I swallow hard. “But it is, sweetheart.” I say softly. “It doesn’t change who you are, it doesn’t weaken you in any way. But I think it’s ok to accept that this was an awful, _awful_ thing that happened to you. You might even breathe a little more easily with allowing yourself to acknowledge that.”

He nods minutely; his eyes averted “Don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“ _Nico_ ,” I admonish him, as if such a thing would be possible.

“No it’s just that, I-I never...”

“You…” there’s that lump in my throat again. “You didn’t tell anyone? You just carried this all alone?”

He nods his head.  “And don’t you look at me any differently either. You hear me, Levi? You can’t. I couldn’t stand it if you did. I love how you look at me, you make me feel strong and I couldn’t bear if…” He trails off when his voice breaks and closes his eyes.

“ _Nico_ ” I almost groan, my heart breaking. I slowly rock him.

He squeezes my forearm. “Levi…”

“Hmm?” Is all I can manage.

“I’m…” he begins, his voice strained. He pauses to wet his lip. “I’m still your guy, yeah?”

That breaks me. I let out what feels like a choked sob and crawl around him so I can straddle his lap and cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “You listen to me, Nico Kim.” I choke out almost angrily, and I brush away the one tear that escapes the corner of his eye with my thumb. “You are _my_ man, you are my first love and you are my last. Do you hear me?”

“Your last?” He whispers.

I touch my brow to his. “Every bit of love inside of me is for you. I begin and end with you. I love you more than yesterday, and I will love you more tomorrow.”  I lift my shoulders in a barely there shrug, shaking my head helplessly. “You are mine.” I whisper.

He closes his eyes, lets out a soft sigh. His throat bobs as he swallows. “I could die a happy man if those were the last words I ever heard, Levi Schmitt.”

“Your ass isn’t going anywhere, Nico Kim.”

He actually cracks a smile and I have never been more grateful for anything in all of my life. Those eyes look into mine, and there he is. There’s my Nico, our private channel open once again.

“There you are.” I whisper. “I missed you.”

There will be no sleeping tonight; I need every second to hold him, to encourage him to evacuate every word and painful secret that may be lingering inside of him. I need every second to make him feel what it is I hold inside for him. I may be small but I hold a plethora, an unending amount of love inside of me for this one man.

I need every second to look into those dark eyes, those eyes that kill me.


End file.
